Several months ago, or maybe it was a year ago, I don’t know (time isn’t real so it doesn’t matter anyway) I had matched on Tinder with a guy who I will call Bart. He looked familiar to me, like we had met before. So, naturally, I asked him why he looked so familiar to me. If he knew, that would save me time on having to think for myself, ya know? I get no response, and move on with my life.

Cut to, a few weeks later. We now match on Bumble. Bumble requires I, the woman, initiate conversation with my match (who is not always a person FYI, often a “match” is simply the feeling of disappointment that has successfully donned the appearance of a human being). So, that’s what I did. All I said was, “lol”. Because really, what more is there to say? A few hours later I get a response from Bart. He apologizes for ignoring me on Tinder, tells me he probably looks familiar because we are friends on Facebook, and then tells me he finds me “intimidating” to talk to. I try my hardest to not find this infuriating, throw at him my best “fuggetaboutit”, and give him my number. A few days later I delete Bumble. He never texts.

At this point it has been a solid month or so when he visits my OkCupid profile. I don’t know why I bother at this point, why I still have interest in this person. It turns me on to terrify a straight white male, I suppose. Anyhow, I message him again, telling him that I am super chill and that we should totally chill and that no word in the English language other than “chill” can better describe me (which is, of course, a lie). I give him my number again. Nothing happens. I officially give up and try dating a rollerblader.

Time goes by. The rollerblader dumps me because I am not chill enough for an open relationship. Fast forward to about a week ago, I deleted my Tinder account and reinstalled it. In doing so, I match with Bart again. I say nothing. He messages me telling me he is sorry for never responding. He gives me a spiel that goes something like, “You still terrify me but fuck it, let’s grab a drink!” Honored to gain his precious approval, I text him with the number he attached to his brave offer.

“Hey, it’s Alison. The big scary monster-woman who voices her opinions online. When should we hang out?”

“Tuesday night.”


We continue talking via text message. I am encouraged to check out his music which is naturally, some lo-fi indie pop. It is very chill.

The next day he texts me, “I can’t Tuesday. Have work early in the morning Wednesday.”

“Okay, how about Wednesday?”


We talk a bit more. Whatever.

Now it’s Wednesday. I text, “We still on for tonight?”

“No. I feel sick.”

Right. Okay. Fine. I respond, “How about you let me know when you’re feeling better, and I stop trying to make this happen.”


We have not spoken since. We will probably never speak again. This, ladies and gentleman, is modern dating.


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